You are gone. I know that much,
In a bed that isn’t mine.
You wait for slumber to steal
a trace of my scent from the dark.

Life is our only witness.
We mistook our fire for love once,
and today it stands prepared to sue
for cruelty, for betrayal, for letting it rot.

I’m afraid to love you again.
My soul still answers to your name.
But I’ve seen what love becomes in us:
a graveyard full of ache.
Where bliss was never buried.
Since it never lived.